


Chaya

by melonbutterfly



Series: cacw fix-its [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: #JewishComicsDay, Canon Jewish Character, Female Jewish Character, Gen, Hebrew Names, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Wanda Maximoff, Wrongful Imprisonment, straightjacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't talk. All intimately aware of the constant surveillance and zero privacy in their panopticon of a prison, none of them speak. Sometimes their eyes meet, but most of the time they all remain in silence.</p>
<p>Wanda can't breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaya

They don't talk. All intimately aware of the constant surveillance and zero privacy in their panopticon of a prison, none of them speak. Sometimes their eyes meet, but most of the time they all remain in silence.

Wanda can't breathe. The guy strapping her into the jacket called her a freak and pulled the belts as tight as they would go; she's absolutely trapped. Her arms are on fire, a throbbing pain that makes it hard to think about anything else, but she's used to pain.

She's used to pain. She's used to pain, but it's been so long since she's felt any that it still takes her off-guard. Once upon a time she knew how to handle this – when Hydra found them, when they started experimenting. When they kept on experimenting, when they kept hurting them under the guise of training, of strengthening them.

But she had Pietro then. The ache of his loss is stronger but there's still fire in her arms, radiating into her shoulders, her neck, her pulse there beating in time with the throbbing in her head. She can't breathe, and the heat makes it harder. But she won't die from this. Losing Pietro, that's what almost killed her, but this, she can survive.

She keeps her eyes closed and pretends he's still here, in the cell next to her, pretends she can hear him whisper in the night, her Hebrew name, both a reminder that he's still here and a message to her – Chaya. Alive, living.

She hasn't been Chaya since her brother was taken from her.

By the time Steve /, Natasha and Bucky come for her she's delirious. She knows this not because she's aware of what's happening; she isn't. All she remembers is absolute _agony_ , and that hot-sore feeling in her throat when she wakes up is familiar; she's been screaming. But she doesn't remember that he came, doesn't know where she is when she opens her eyes, stares at the nondescript ceiling. The silence is hushed, but a gentle breeze fans over her and it feels so nice she doesn't want to look around to find out she's still imprisoned.

Slowly, she becomes more aware of her surroundings. Her arms are sore, but it's nothing in comparison with how they felt when she was still in the jacket. She isn't anymore, her body is blissfully cool, a light blanket covering her with her arms lying on top. Her headache is gone as well.

A body shifts, close by, and before she can stop herself Wanda looks over, and there Steve sits. He's wearing a t-shirt, not one of his too-tight atrocities but something that actually fits, and he does not look like he has slept a wink.

"Hey, kid," he says, one corner of his mouth quirking up, but his eyes are sorrowful, and she feels the weight of his guilt like a cloud surrounding him.

Wanda bursts into tears. She doesn't mean to; when Pietro died she promised herself she'd be strong, for his sake. But there is no strength left in her now, only relief, only sorrow. An eerie combination.

Alarmed, Steve stands up. "Hey, Wanda, hey," he says and reaches for her even as she reaches for him; her fingers, clumsy with remaining soreness and pain, only barely manage to curl in the fabric of his shirt but it doesn't matter because Steve is already there. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, lets her cry into his chest. "I've got you," he murmurs again and again, and she knows it's the truth. He came for her, came for all of them, somehow managed to find them a safe place and got them out of that prison, got her out of that hell.

She hadn't known to expect him. More likely she would have believed to see him again in a neighboring cell, after everything that happened, than she would have believed he'd come to get them out. In hindsight, she should have known. Steve doesn't ever give up, even if the odds are stacked against him as severely as they were since he refused to sign those documents. And somehow he came for her. Came for her the same way Pietro would have, if he hadn't been in the cell next to her, if he hadn't been dead.

It takes a long time for her to stop crying but he doesn't shush her, doesn't get exasperated or annoyed, and when she apologizes he shakes his head.

"You have nothing to apologize for." It's not a benign lie; she can feel that he means it.

Another thing she can feel, before he even opens his mouth to say it, is that he himself on the other hand feels like he has a lot to apologize for.

She doesn't let him get there. "Chaya."

He pauses. "Chaya?"

"My Hebrew name," she explains. "It means... alive. Living. P-Pietro used to call me that, when we were with _them_. To remind me." For a moment she loses herself in the memory of her brother; it's easy, with her forehead leaning against Steve's chest, his hands broad on her back, strong arms encasing her without trapping her. But Steve isn't Pietro; the comparison is fleeting, and as much as the thought hurts, there's something good to it too. Her brother may be gone, but she still has family; Clint, who came for her when she was trapped at home, Steve, who got her out of this prison. Sam, who never made her talk about her loss or what she's been through, Natasha, who was never afraid of her, who helped her learn how to handle her powers and also handle the knowledge that she's been created to kill.

She still has them, even if she's lost Vision and Tony.

"Chaya," Steve repeats softly. "Thank you."

It's time she learns how to be Chaya again.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is by far not enough for the occasion, but it's all I could manage; I've had a terrible week, illness-wise, so I'm glad I got at least this even while I'm sad I didn't get to write what I meant to write.
> 
>  
> 
> btw i did some research and straight jackets? should be considered instruments of torture imo.


End file.
